


Unsatisfactory Bedfellows

by dragonbork



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Bad Decisions, Bad Sex, F/M, fake orgasms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 23:11:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14758067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonbork/pseuds/dragonbork
Summary: But she had taken many elven lovers to bed, and none had touched her body in such a clinical manner. It was as if Solas was studying her like he did the ocularum shards or the fade. She found herself questioning whether he had forgone sex for a medical exam.





	Unsatisfactory Bedfellows

**Author's Note:**

> There are many people who do Solas great justice, and manage to write smut with him that is very sensual and engaging. I am not one of those people.

Hallasil remembered the frantic touches of Baahir, possessing desperation and passion he somehow conveyed through wandering fingertips and forceful grips. She remembered the trail of wildfire he left from her collarbone to her earlobe with his tongue, the way he repositioned her attire, paying not enough mind to disrobe her completely.

She remembered the awkward giggle that escaped her lips when Aeron fumbled with her boots, then her leathers. The grin he offered her, undeterred by the challenge. She remembered the hesitancy in his eyes and her lips pressed to his in an act of wordless encouragement.

She had glimpses of her other lovers, flashes of their names and their hands on her hips. Some were less memorable than others, nights spent in taverns or make-shift tents. Yet all could be said to have something in common. 

They may not have been spectacular or notable in their lovemaking, but they all had touched her with purpose and experience. 

The same could not be said about her current bedfellow.

Solas, the enigmatic apostate of the Inquisition. He was never short on cryptic expressions or knowledge about phenomenons even more perplexing than himself. His confidence and bravado suggested to most that there was not a single task he couldn’t complete with mastery. 

Even a day before, Hallasil might have agreed. He had never given her or anyone else reason to question his competency. Though she supposed that it wasn’t as though most made it into the sheets with the man.

His hands were understandably bony--a side effect of his existence as an elf. She too possessed sharp angles, though hers were mostly limited to her pointy hips and ribs. 

But she had taken many elven lovers to bed, and none had touched her body in such a clinical manner. It was as if Solas was studying her like he did the ocularum shards or the fade. She found herself questioning whether he had forgone sex for a medical exam.

Yet her doubt was soon disputed when she felt the heat of his clothed arousal on her bare thigh. Against all reason, he was enjoying this. She was glad that the experience was engaging for one of them.

“You’re beautiful.” The steady chatter of the tavern-goers below was interrupted by his almost obligatory remark. She managed to force a small smile before burrowing into his neck and out of his sight.

“Thank you.” The words were somewhat muffled given her position. She took a breath and pressed her lips to his neck then almost robotically flicked her tongue over his pale skin.

She swore she could hear a soft moan, and had to muster immense willpower to not roll her eyes. He was acting like he had never known the touch of another. She supposed it was possible though unlikely--he was ancient. 

In the midst of her actions he had become fully undressed. Solas positioned himself with ease, indicating he had at least some experience in the matter. 

Experience, as Hallasil soon found out, was not the same thing as expertise. He knew vaguely what to do, directed by his own search for release. His fingers lacked the precision of his staff, and somehow managed to miss each and every of her erogenous zones.

She was almost painfully aware of his presence within her, lacking any sort of lust or arousal that would make the experience pleasurable on her own end. The tediousness grew with each minute he was on top of her, and she found herself lulled into repetitive touches to feign interest.

Eventually, after what she would assert was millennia, it was over. She quickly moved to press her teeth into his shoulder, attempting a genuine moan to pretend she too had found release. He lingered inside of her for a moment, breathing heavily. His heartbeat was erratic in a way she knew her own certainly wasn’t. 

It seemed as if eons more passed before he moved to dress himself. She took her own time putting on her clothes, conquering each layer with an excruciatingly slow pace. Anything to make him grow impatient enough to insist he had another matter to attend to.

“Da’len,” There it was. “I have a meeting with the arcanist. It completely slipped my mind.”

She beamed at him, resisting the urge to smirk with all of her might. Nothing slipped his mind, not ever. “Of course. I was supposed to meet with Varric for drinks anyway.”

He nodded and ducked out. She gave him a few minutes of a head start so her own walk of shame down the steps would be less obvious. 

Yet nothing eluded her dwarven friend, such was clear when she slid onto the barstool next to his own. 

“Dainty…” His voice was full of mock innocence. “Was that Chuckles I just saw leaving the room upstairs?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line. “You know I’m rubbish at lying to a professional, Varric. I’ll pick up the tab tonight if you agree to never speak of this again.”

“Deal.”


End file.
